I am weak
by rivernymph99
Summary: Sam finds out she's pregnant... Set in the time before Sam and Tom finally get together (in Punch, Drunk, Love.) Will she keep it? My first ever fic! CHAPTER 12 NOW UP! sorry for the wait, as if it's a bit short, but please remember to review!
1. Chapter 1

1

Two red lines.

She counted again. One. Two.

She shook her head; perhaps she was just seeing double? Sam took another look.

No. She wasn't hallucinating. There was defiantly two. Her stomach seized.

One more time, just in case; she thought. One...Two..."Shit." It came out in a whisper.

Sam's left arm was holding the up the towel that she'd wrapped around her body moments ago; covering her chest. One solitary strand of hair, still damp from a well needed shower, escaped from behind her ear. It fell in front of her eye and disrupted the harsh stare that she still hadn't broken since her last counting attempt. With a sudden rush of air that left her lungs like a bullet, she dropped the kit in the sink. With her now free, trembling hand she angrily stuck the strand of hair back behind her ear where it belonged.

She backed away from the basin, knowing full well that it could be completely wrong. However this didn't stop the shocked whimper that came from the deep depths of her throat. The arm on the towel made a fist and clenched tight, the other made its way to her jaw to stop it from shaking. Pure shock.

It was 5:00am in Holby, therefore practically arctic. (No matter what time of year.) The bathroom tiles were starting to chill under her bony feet after being heated by the shower Sam had taken after her run. She took the test before stepping into the tropical sanctuary; never fully considering that this could be an outcome. The condensation on the mirror above the white china sink was starting to vanish, revealing Sam's reflection to herself which caused her to let out another whimper. It was croaky and chocked from the pressure building inside her. She stared into her own big, glassy, swelling eyes: and they stared back. Sam watched herself begin to cry.

And that's how she remained; up-right, shivering and shaking. Sobbing- sobbing in the middle of her small en-suit, not bearing to even glance down at those two red lines.


	2. Chapter 2

2

It took Sam a good 50 minutes before she glanced at the digital clock that was strategically positioned on top of the medicine cabinet. She knew her shift would be starting soon, but the tears still relentlessly streamed down her face. Head pounding, body throbbing those tears kept on coming. She was absolutely hysterical, and fully aware of it. Not this far gone since she was a child.

It was hopeless trying to make it to work today. He would be there; in all his glory.

The gorgeous mop of curls that she could still feel between her fingers- lush and smooth. That glittery smile; cheeky but gentle- the one that got her to come over in the first place, would be there. His tall, trim frame that would tower over her like a giant, but had once engulfed her entire body into the most passionate of hugs- strong and safe. His eyes... _those eyes;_ the memory still there of the time she was close enough to taste; when she had finally, truly fallen for him_. _But today, his eyes...those beautifully painful eyes, would be ignoring her. "Playing the game."

And that would kill her. She knew it.

Instead, she wrinkled her toes (they were dead), wiped her nose with the soft side of her hand, closed her eyes. More tears rolled away.

Steadily, step by step, Sam shakily walked towards to the bathroom door. Her knees were stiff and painful, but she couldn't stay in there forever. No matter how much she wanted to. The door knob was ice when she turned it, swinging open the thin wooden door. It surly wasn't thick enough to conceal the sound she had been making for the last hour from the whole block of flats, but was that really primarily on her mind?

Today, instead of facing Tom, Sam decided to collapse on her bed. Still sniffing, still spluttering. Still crying. She scrambled under the cotton sheets, discarding the towel, now dry, at the foot of her bed.

She burrowed completely under the covers, trying to replicate his warmth: it didn't quite make the cut. Her body caved in on itself. The fetal position...Oh. How appropriate.

Her long, spindly arms reached out for her feet. Some sort of comfort, she guessed. Curling up further, she bit her knee, anything to stop crying. After all, she was Sam Nichols. Emotion wasn't usually something she chose to show. She was strong. She was brave.

"I am strong." she said out loud, but this only made her bite her knee even more.

Feelings. They was a sign of weakness- that's what the army told them anyway. Sam sighed. That's why they didn't want her in the end. She had shown too much. Too many feelings to handle. Biting her knee harder; she remembered telling herself before her first tour, never to get like that. Never to get like this.

She was a shell of her former self. She said it five times over in her head. _"You're a shell, You're a shell"_ exhausted and breaking. But still howling away.

This is why no one wanted her. Sam opened her mouth to scream, but couldn't. Not even brave enough to make noise. A mouse.

Why _would _he want to be attached to her? She was weak.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Sam didn't know how or when, but she must have cried herself to sleep.

Although she was still completely submerged in the pea-green duvet covers on her bed, she knew that it was the bleak February sunlight that had eventually woken her. Perhaps midday? She didn't know. She didn't care, all she could think about was him. Her last thoughts before her mind shut down from sheer exhaustion, and her first thoughts before she was dragged out of her dreams;_ this hurt too much._

The sheets beside her aching head were damp with tears; tears that she now realised had now ceased to exist. There was nothing left now. She was numb.

All four limbs were stiff. As was her neck. They felt old and feeble- unable to move, and this didn't make Sam feel any better. She hated herself; laying here, distraught, breaking, weak. It made her feel sick knowing what she must look like. Knowing how she felt.

Her hair was newly clean and dry, but felt disgusting. _She _felt disgusting. She _was_ disgusting.

Sam cleared her throat and inhaled deeply. This made dynamite detonate in her brain. A roaring migraine had exploded. Sam gave in and closed her eyes once more. The lids dropped like the heavy weights she usually lifted in the gym; recently her back had been aching, which had stopped her from doing this. Back ache. _She should have known then..._

Sam was just about ready to die when the phone began to ring. "Work" was the word that escaped her lips, piercing the silence in her room. Tentatively she sat up. "Jesus Christ!" - It hurt a lot.

Swinging her legs round to one side of the bed, she raised herself up. She did really need to answer the phone, even though speaking to someone was possibly the last thing on earth she wanted to do. Walking toward the still sounding telephone, she felt like a slug. All energy gone despite her slumber.

"Hello?" she said, just about loud enough to hear if you listened closely, quiet enough to disguise the pain in her chest.

"Hello Sam?" Yep it was work. Zoe.

"Yes..." was the dreary sound Sam managed. _Oh God..._

"Where the hell are you?" Zoe half shouted. Great, she was angry.

"Err-rm. I'm at home" Sam sighed.

"Sam you sound ill. Are you OK?" Zoe asked more concerned. This was hell. Couldn't people just leave her alone? She hated when people thought or knew she was ill. Always had, always would. Not even something like this would change that.

"No... I can't come into work today I'm sorry- Can you manage without me?" She replied, more confidently. Well. Confident is a strong word. More... _alive_.

"Yes, I think... I'll ask Tom to cover for you" Zoe stated. A lump formed in Sam's throat. "I'm sure he will be able to, but you really can't just not come to work, Sam. I expect you in tomorrow, OK?" Zoe continued.

"Of course. It's just a, a family thing... Thanks." She quickly hung up, as she could feel the lump getting bigger. _Well strictly speaking it wasn't a lie,_ Sam thought a soon as she'd put down the phone. _This is a family thing, I suppose.._

The flat was suddenly quiet again. Dust particles could be scene in the sunbeam cast across the room from the window. If you looked at the right angle they looked like they were dancing.

The light in the bathroom that was still on, flickered in need of a new bulb, but besides from that the whole atmosphere was incredibly peaceful.

The only disturbance was the monotone beep-beep of the buttons on the telephone Sam was pressing one by one. Her laptop was positioned next to the phone, which meant she hadn't had to make to effort to move. The only thing she had had to do was bring herself to make the search, which had been much, much harder than she thought.

But this was the right decision. It's what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do. The _only _option. He didn't love her.

Placing the phone to her ear, Sam waited. She kept her eyes busy by watching the clock tick methodically.

The other end picked up. They spoke.

"Yes I would like to make an appointment." Sam said. the fire gone from her eyes. The other end spoke again.

"Today?" Sam repeated, slightly surprised. "Yer... I suppose so..."


	4. Chapter 4

4

It hadn't been the best of mornings, but compared to yesterday, it really wasn't that bad.

She hadn't eaten; the sick feeling in her stomach was still present. And even if that was gone, the headache would still be there; gnawing inside her head, chewing away at her brain, then spitting it back out again- turning tissue into rotting mush.

Sam was sure that she would never shake the headache.

Cycling usually being her preferred mode of transport, was out of the picture. So instead she had driven to work. This probably wasn't the _safest _of things to do ever with her concentration levels being at an absolute zero, she knew, however she didn't care. There were far more pressing issues to worry about now.

The sign on Zoe's office said Dr Hanna in bold, black letters. Sam couldn't remember a time when she had visited this office when the sign said "Dr Hanna". _Well there's always a first for everything..._

She pulled down the top of her scrubs, adjusting it. She'd always hated that colour green; it reminded of her school uniform. She was still shaky from the last 26 hours. Not quite convincing enough to avoid attention and several colleagues had asked if she was OK. None of them were Tom- his shift didn't start 'till three. Even then he wouldn't make an effort to ask after her, even after covering yesterday. That thought made Sam swallow suddenly. Her mouth was bone dry. She never understood that expression though. From experience, Sam knew that bones were most defiantly not_ dry_.

The expression on her face didn't help keep her under the radar, either. She looked like she was _grieving_; her eyes dark and cheeks thin. Absolutely positively, devastated.

It took a tremendous amount of physical strength to lift her arm to knock on the door. Sam winced at both the actual pain and the reminder of how weak she had become. It was the most unwilling of knocks possible; hardly distinguishable from the chaotic sounds of an emergency department, but somehow, there was a distinct "Come in" from inside the office.

Sam's eyes began to water, but she rolled them to prevent any tears from falling. "_Appear strong..." _she whispered to herself knowing full well that that was a joke. Shaking her head in hatred of herself, she exhaled and entered to office.

Zoe didn't even look up from a looming pile of paper work that Sam could never imagine herself being able to sit through. About ten novelty mugs that used to contain coffee were unwashed and discarded at Zoe's side. Sam cleared her throat subconsciously, and Zoe must have recognised her by this, as her face rose into a small smile.

"Oh, Sam!" she said slightly too loudly for Sam's liking. "You've decided to come to work today, apparently..." Zoe chucked in quite a jokingly way. "I thought something terrible must have happened- you sounded terrible one the phone..." her words teetered off when she saw Sam's face. Zoe rolled in her lips, eating her words.

An awkward silence fell in the room. Sam just stood there by the door. Her shadow that was cast across the wooden floor appeared so thin it reminded Sam of a skeleton. Her droopy eyes followed it to avoid contact with Zoe's which now had a look of worry. Her mouth was open at the sight of Sam; always confidant without fail, she looked like world had ended.

Sam realised that Zoe wasn't going to start speaking any time soon.

"I'm just here to ask if I can have Thursday and Friday off next week." She said quickly, almost stumbling over her words. All this time she hadn't looked up from the floor. Sam's eyes floated up to meet Zoe's stare. The two women looked into each other's eyes. Sam's showed complete despair. Her bosses disbelief.

"S-Sam... are you OK?"

"Obviously no." Sam admitted, harshly. The "no" had risen at the end as her stomach had just forced itself into her mouth. All she wanted to do was break down and cry. Her knees felt weak and her heart was pounding. _Please don't cry, please..._

"Sam..." Zoe said lovingly. She had tiptoed over to Sam now, but the clipping sound of her heals had still alerted Sam of this, since her eyes were now fully focused on the floorboards. Zoe arm reached out to Sam's, comforting. "Don't cry... Maybe if you would tell me what's wrong it'll be OK?"

Sam knew she was just trying to be nice, besides, she had uttered that same very sentence to countless patients herself. She also knew that it was the right thing to do; talk about it. It would make her feel better now; however, she had promised herself to tell no one. That way she could pretend that it never happened...

"I just need two days off. Yes or no?" she said closing her eyes coldly, shutting Zoe off. She shook the arm that Zoe held. Her heart worked harder and faster. All she needed was the answer to the question. Then she could move on. It would be definite.

The room paused. The outside world was a low murmur on the other side of the wall.

"Yes... Yes you can, Sam." Zoe eventually said, just staring at Sam, not really accepting the situation to be real. Sam backed away towards the door. Her lip trembled, her nose quivered.

"Thank you."

She hardly managed to say it before the first tear rolled down her face.


	5. Chapter 5

5

It had all been alright until he graced her with his presence.

Yer, she had spent a considerable amount of time in the staff toilets weeping, but then Sam had stuck into her work, and for a while, for the first time since the previous morning, her mind wasn't completely preoccupied with thoughts of next week. It was a break from herself.

Of course she never really forgot, _however_ treating a person with a severe trauma to the head made her attention focus on something else. It was "therapeutic".

A man- he'd been evolved in a motorway collision that she was secretly hoping was causing traffic. (She was trying to avoid laying eyes on Tom until necessary.) The man was quite young. Probable brain damage. It was sad. It still made her feel better though...

...

At the time she had been talking to the new senior consultant. He was in charge of this case- it was a serious one- and she wanted to offer her opinion. That was her thing; act strong, appear confident. Then, nobody would ask questions. Not even Zoe.

Dr Ashford had been appraising her findings, which had made her feel slightly proud, when out of the corner of her paranoid eye, she spotted him entering the staffroom. He was texting, so, not fully paying attention. Tom went to open the door by backing into it whilst still grinning down at his phone.

That smile, that satisfied grin. She had seen it before; two weeks ago today, to be _completely_ accurate. Sam's stomach did a flip and she held the clip board holding notes in her right hand out to Dr Ashford. _Why_? She thought. _What made me think I was any more special than any of the other ones? Honestly._

Immediately detached from the conversation, she pushed the notes into Dr Ashford's hands, nodded at the doctor and headed towards cubicles. _Just ignore Tom and you won't feel any pain. He doesn't love you. You're weak; just like the rest._


	6. Chapter 6

6

"Sam!"

Sam heard the all too familiar hollering all the way from cubicle's, but was trying to pretend she couldn't. Usually, she much preferred working with critical patients in resus. In fact she always said, when asked, that the best part of her job was the adrenaline rush she got from being in resus. Anyone who knew her well enough would seemingly roll their eyes, and utter _"Typical!"_ with the corners of their mouths turned up. Which is why,_ usually_, Sam thought of it as a relief when a porter, nurse, or even Zoe Hanna herself, popped there head around the cubical curtain where she was treating some time consuming, boring old, supposedly "broken toe" (or whatever) and request her presence on a case. It _usually _never failed to bring a slight, subconscious smile to her face.

So, naturally she completely understood why she was being summoned by Zoe.

However, Tom, she knew for a fact, had a steady army of children lined up and assembled behind those doors, waiting to be treated by, what at the time had been described at the time as, _"paediatric expertise"_.

...

"Well he's certainly A-Okay at _that_. " Sam had grimaced cruelly to herself. "He's managed to demonstrate that one clearly…"

She was slightly louder than intended, and quickly but subtly swished her head to either side, scanning the inside of resus, hoping that no one had heard. So swift, Sam's tightly fastened pony-tail managed to flick up onto her right shoulder. The way it appeared at her side reminded her of a bright orange snake she remembered seeing overseas. The way it seemed to reflect the sunlight as it darted across her heavy duty army boots had mesmerised her.

"Hah! Fond of Dr Tom, are we?" Linda's voice chuckled behind her, completely misinterpreting Sam's tone._ Behind her_! Linda stood cross armed, now facing Sam's face, with fireworks exploding on her own at the chance of some gossip. Sam hated gossips. Over Linda's shoulder Sam caught a glimpse of Tom incubating a small girl, unsuccessfully._ He never was the best at that_. For Linda, the small amount of bewilderment showing in Sam's fragile, beady eyes amused her: slightly too much.

Sam, who was completely horrified, started to think of something to say; preferably contradictory, but couldn't for the life of her think straight whilst Linda was still studying her own expression. It was not good. She could tell judging by her inability to speak.

She felt like an open book; unable to control what secrets she revealed or showed. Inanimately venerable. Just too, too weak to stop someone flicking the pages she wished were undecipherable.

"Oh, don't look like _so_ surprised!" Linda continued to tease whilst scooting around a nearby, unoccupied bed. "Everyone, and I _mean_ everyone, thinks he's absolutely _gorgeous_! But just so you know..." She proceeded to make up the lime coloured, itchy hospital sheets. Sam clutched the metal railing of the adjacent bed in anticipation, plus the lining of her stomach was beginning to coat her throat. " I saw the way you looked at him yesterday, I think that new doctor noticed too." Sam squeezed the bar so bar it would bruise. Her stomach groaned. "And you know what else people think about him?"

Nothing in Sam showed any acknowledgement. Linda knelt down to tuck the lose fabric in. Linda continued: "He's a player- not worth it... as charming as he may seem I doubt he's ever up for commitment."

_Oh, don't I know it..._

Linda looked up then as she puffed a pillow. "Oh, Crap!" she had dropped the it and it had skidded towards Sam's feet. Placing her shaky grip on the pillow she picked it up and held it out to Linda's general direction trying not to show much friendliness. She wasn't in the mood. "I bet he's never seen the same girl twice- there's never a shortage of foolish bimbo's!" Linda practically snorted.

If Sam wasn't feeling so detached at that moment- not so broken- she probably would have stopped Linda in her tracks. Said something along the lines of: _Then I'm sure you two are very close!_ and the stormed away with a determined stride in every step. Proud and strong. But now she had evolved; no longer naively confident. A stranger to herself.

Instead she let Linda's hurtful gabble engulf her like wave. A big, decisive wave.

"But I'm sure you know that already." Linda added. "I know you're not stupid!" her tone had changed now, possibly sensing Sam's deep despite. Looking directly at Sam's face, she sighed "I mean... even if he did ever want you, Sam, I'm sure you would know better. You're too strong to ever really ever let him get to you."

_Too late. I've already let him._

That was when Sam turned and shunned Linda. Heading out of resus to the closest cubical, desperately swallowing the vomit in her mouth.

...

"Sam!" Zoe called again, more hurried. Louder.

_How can I? He's in there._

Every single part of Sam wanted never see Tom again. It was an absolute disgrace to show her face to him. She looked effected by him, and even if she appeared strong, he must be able to see a part of her normally only prominent in her own company. She appeared venerable to him; someone he could take advantage of. That's what Sam truly believed anyway.

_Well you are aren't you? You're not really strong, you're weak. He could just see the real you..._

And even when she told herself out loud that Linda had been wrong; that they'd seen each other more than once - that she was not a bimbo, the little voice inside her head just repeated over, and over again, the message that seemed to be pumped through her body, by her delicate heart; Tom Kent would never love her. Even...no... Especially, if he ever knew what was growing inside her. She just couldn't believe anything different.

"Sam Nichols!" Zoe came out of resus, her gown plastered in a fresh layer of thick, metallic blood. "Now! Would be _ideal..._"


	7. Chapter 7

7

The curtain Sam had drawn across hadn't hidden her as much as hoped.

"We need you now!" Zoe exclaimed. "What have you..." a hesitant pause. "Err... been doing Sam." It was more a statement than a question. "Honestly…" She shook of the image of the unfamiliar Sam before her eyes.

Beckoning for Sam with gloved finger, Zoe disappeared through the swinging doors as quickly and as hurriedly as she arrived, kicking them open with her stilettoed foot. The way Zoe entered resus was like some kind of bloodied super-villain. Finders pointed in the air like as if an ominous laugh and the murky but bright artificial light inside looked like lightning. Cries of pain her thunder.

She hadn't waited for Sam's reply, but she could real in all the information she needed to know by the way Sam was leaning against the wall in her hiding place; knees crippled, eyes only half awake, head lolling backwards. The way she pressed her arms tight to the wall and scratched the plaster with her bitten nails, looked as if Sam was just one thin tread away from collapsing on the floor in devastation. If Zoe had a moment to spare, then perhaps she would have taken the time to wonder what the hell was going on, but inside her mind all she could do was distantly "re-role" repercussions of the previous morning.

"Sorry… I was just…" Sam murmured, her lips a natural rose red, but Zoe had gone; she _should_ follow. Sam felt what could be a golf ball in her throat. It was lumpy and ridged. Then, with the miniscule amount of strength in her arms, she climbed herself off the wall with sweaty palms. Her head felt like a dead weight. _I knew this headache would stick around_.

It wasn't such bad thing that Zoe had spotted her; she may have gotten lost deep inside her own thoughts and make a scene. She was still Sam Nichols after all. Attentions being on her made her skin crawl.

_Just go in there and act like normal. Strong. Fearless. Confident. . It might all be okay then; you'll be able to move on. All in the past. _

_No one will ever know something was wrong. Tom, he'll never know…_

And, although her head was fizzing, her whole body shaking and pulse elevated; Sam stood up as strong as ever, head held high, and began breathing steadily. A slick path a drop of sweat had taken was shimmering on her forehead, illuminated by the large lamp beside her used for sewing stitches. An arm that suddenly appeared to hold the strength of the earth swiped the railing away and its owner began to rush towards resus; bouncy, perky, energetic. Like nothing had changed.

_See! You're doing it! Just this time next week and it will all be over, everything will be back to usual!_

She was right. As long as they didn't look long enough, not hard enough, she could be fooling any one. Every one with the exception of Tom; but of course, she didn't know that. Didn't believe he ever would, no matter how much she _wished_ he would.

But her Achilles heel was her eyes. The dancing adventure that enchanted Tom had gone. Hurt remained.

...

Once upon entering, the marginally rampageous ED seemed like a fluffy fairyland. The atmosphere in _here_ was morbid. Sam had never thought about Holby like that before- it was more like dusty Afghanistan than she thought.

As she dashed towards the chaos, charging through the corridor like she didn't care who was watching; every meter closer she travelled, a contumacious scream became more and more deafening that it resembled one of a banshee. And now inside the closed space, the agony in the pitch and tone pierced the thick air relentlessly. The door was swinging shut- hitting Sam every time it repeated its cycle because she had stopped dead in her place...

By drinking up the situation, Sam could now make out that the reason the scream was so shocking, so different from the usual cries of agony, was that it was escaping the cavernous lungs of woman engulfing on a bed; her back arced like a bow with every single wheezing breath. It was easy to spot the shard of glass; blood seeped like oil, spiralling out of the woman's milky flesh at its own accord; horridly near to her slightly rounded abdomen.

It wasn't Zoe's fault. No one would have been able to do anything about it. Another tell -tale pool of blood was establishing fairly quickly on bed linen down below.

The yelping wasn't dissimilar to the cries she herself had created, Sam thought. But it was obvious by the compulsion of it all- that that were actually very different. Sam's were shuddered sobs and drew darker and deeper as they progressed- nothing she could be proud of, but at least it wasn't like this. Besides from the obvious reasons, Sam could feel that this was different. It was a combination of a heart being shattered and a body not far behind.

This woman's heart was_ breaking_, whereas hers was already broken.

"Zoe…" It was said tentatively but Zoe flounced the equipment in her palm thrown into a dish one of the student nurses held out to her in rage. She spewed Sam a glare- it wasn't angry, but disheartened. What could she do?

Sam plodded towards the woman, now able to make out a face. Quite old, but young enough to start a family. _Oh my God_. The scream continued but as a methodical cry. A space automatically cleared by the edge of the bed where Sam stood, unable to look at anything but her open jaw. You could see fillings.

"Helen," Zoe cleared her dry mouth, addressing the hysterical figure lunging towards the sky. Actual tears were forming in Zoe's eyes for it was impossible to stop them. The shrieking was quieting down, but this was worse as you could tell what the woman was trying to splurge out. Zoe took a deep breath. "I am so, so sorry. But we couldn't save you baby. We just couldn't reverse the damage already done."

She had told the woman what she already knew. What she didn't need to hear.

Sam's face was hard- it resembled cold wax in its brittleness. This whole scenario was almost unbearable; and Sam realised why it had to be her.

_"She deals with trauma effectively and doesn't let it get to her. The perfect doctor…"_ she remembered someone describing it as. What they really had meant is that she wouldn't cry. Detach herself. She would deal with it and assist Zoe without making the situation worse. _"She's very together you see- scene it all."_ Whoever had said _that_, Sam desperately wanted to hit. Hard with new-found strength.

Before they were right. _But now what?_

_..._

"Can I leave you to err, take care of the glass, Sam?" Zoe sounded dead, emotionally drained; hardly unusual, but what could Sam do? Her boss snapped her rubber gloves friskily off her hands and discarded them in a medical bin shakily. Then the same with the medical gown. To be honest with herself, Zoe wanted to get out of there as fast as possible- for some reason this had_ really_ gotten to her.

"Ah-Ah..." Sam spurred, no really sure how to react to the case. "Of course." She said while exhaling smoothly. hardly thinking. The whole speed of it had been so quick. No time for a person to absorb what they witnessed. Just shocking; the screams had _insured_ that. Sam looked at the floor unable to act naturally with Zoe, after the week's events. She just felt numb. Numb, but at least here she felt more like herself.

"Thank you." Zoe added before pushing the door open to leave, but lingered. "You know I'm here for you Sam. Just... please don't do anything on your own, okay?.. It's just... you look so..." She didn't finish, interrupted by a sudden sniff- the beginnings of Sam starting to cry.

But she held it in.

"Yes... okay." Sam managed. Zoe nodded and turned towards to ED. Sam looked after her. "Thank you." She whispered.

...

"You're done." Sam sighed.

Throughout the course of attending to the glass, Helen- that was her name, had turned completely and soundly silent. Sam's usual way of dealing with things was to be silent. Which was why she was glad when Helen started to do the same; she knew from experience that her patient could at least be rational. It was her way of forming trust. Like when she'd treat a patient like Helen, she would think; _be quiet so they know you will listen to what they have to say._ In fact, when she told her she was done stitching; it was the first time either of them had properly spoken directly to one another.

"How come, I didn't need, an op?" Helen's voice distorted by the hand that propped her head up by supporting the side of her face. She'd spoken for the first time. _Well, what can I say? It works..._

"It is actually quite a small strip of glass." Sam said softly, happy to be caught up in someone else's problems. She held the scarlet shred of glass up with her tweezers. It was inappropriately glistening like something precious. "And, we could tell by your X-ray that it wasn't deep enough to require surgery." She plonked it back down, knowing Helen wasn't wanting any further information. She wiped the side of her nose with the back of her right hand embarrassed, realizing what she had just said. Helen hiccupped and her voice broke...

"But it _was _deep enough wasn't it!" she cried but then covered her lips with her hands. Sam slid her hands down into her pockets and rolled lint between her fingers. It felt familiar and comforting in a very _unfamiliar_ situation. _What can I say?_

"Yes. I suppose it was." Sam said simply. Helen was right, and there was no point in denying it. Sam held out a sure and steady hand, and Helen took it. "Where's your husband? You really need to call him."

"I-I... how _can_ I tell him?" She began to cry again. But now controlled, she knew exactly what she was going to say; "We've tried and tried for a child for so, so long. All I ever wanted was a family of my own. You know?" Sam nodded, although she didn't know at all.

"I just needed one so badly. A baby- a human that I'd created. We'd created. A life made by us." Sam's insides were being dissolved by the acid that avalanched her ear drums.

"I would see other mothers- ungrateful mother's everywhere." Helen was clasping Sam's hand so tightly; blood would be getting cut off. "I'm a midwife- work in gyne" she explained. "I would see women that had lot's of children and didn't want another, or women who didn't really want_ any_ children. Teenage girls, gypsy's. Sometimes meet woman having abortions. _Treat them._" Helen suddenly snatched her hand back to herself to clutch her scalp.

"And when finally...Well, it didn't matter so much, I forgot in shear enjoyment." Her voice cracked then. "But now?"

Sam's own eyes began to water. Her heart pounding like a piston. Running rhythmically._ No, oh God no. It's not... But...  
_

"How could anyone be so ungrateful?"

It killed her. It actually devoured the microscopic piece of self-assurance Sam still withheld. Gone. Just...nothing.

_Enough. That's... enough._


	8. Chapter 8

8

It wasn't the first time he'd kissed her. It wasn't the second time either. Nor the last.

All she could see was _that _kiss.

She wasn't exactly sure how it happened. Or even when it started. It wasn't exactly a special time or place- 10:32pm Sam's living room.

All she knew for sure was that right there, right then, she was falling hard and she could only pray that he was feeling the same way.

...

The kiss scalded her tongue. She opened her mouth wider against his, and he filled it with a sea of hot red embers dissolving inside. It was as if all him was projecting itself through this moment; slipping her secrets and taking her away.

_It's time. I feel it, I know it. Raw and different to before. It's fueling my heart, it's breaking my bones. I open my eyes and it's just him and me - nothing anywhere but Tom and me - our souls press together and I know- I feel that it's happened. Happened like never before. Im gone; falling for ever in his blazing abyss. It's now. I realise it now; it's like we only have one moment, one chance. Just try hold it on your palm like a shell- too fragile, to special to drop. Preserve it always because this is the first time he's kissed me. Not any time before, but now. _

_I know it's happened now. Fallen out the sky onto us now. A stars fallen. A pennies dropped and I'm just arriving at the place I was always meant to be. _

Her eyes closed again and she let them kiss like they had never kissed him before. This was the kiss had waited for so long - a kiss imagined by the river during her childhood, when she didn't even know what love meant. A kiss that had been suspended in the air with every man she'd ever been with, but never found its way back down to their embrace. The kiss that had travelled with her to Afghanistan, and that had remained hidden behind piles of dust an war, then had with her later returned, unlived. A kiss that she'd forgotten could exist, after never happening- a kiss lost and now was found. This had been waiting to explode her entire life- none of the fools she'd ever known had made her feel like this. A stone had been sitting on her heart but now danced and sang- the wait was over.

In the moment of that kiss, she was searching, disillusionment and living what forever had been an impossible dream. This now, was most important Sam had ever done. She slowed down, took her time to simply cherish the physical sensation of love darting between her lips. Little electric sparks sipped through her bloodstream, making sure every nerve in her body was focused on his amazing mouth. This was real. How on earth could she be creating this by herself? Those thoughts only made her kiss him harder.

...

She had never looked for any kind of love; she always waited until it landed in her lap.

But that was the thing. Sam was sure of it now. Before that night- the eve of that beautiful, stomach butterfly creating kiss; she had never found anything unexpected laying there.

And to think that it was unrequited, one sided- unbalanced, made her entire soul burn and ache. The short lived lives of the butterflies from bellow her chest were ending - there wings shrived up and stopped fluttering.

But the feeling of beauty in there flight lived on like the way his signature still tasted hot and freshly brandished on her tongue, no longer there but never forgotten.


	9. Chapter 9

9

Only after the front door was unlocked, opened then entered, Sam allowed herself to do what she had managed to keep herself from doing in the middle of the resus.

Letting her weak knees buckle then collapse and dissolve her body into the ground, her clammy palms damp with sweat placed themselves down by her side upon the dusty floorboards. They instantly cooled from the hard-wood. Despite the bitter weather, Sam was boiling. Moisture created by stress came seeping from every pore in her body, and her temples felt like they were bubbling towards the surface too.

She knelt neatly by the door staring emptily at the pair of trainers ready to be worn. It was routine that after a day shift she would run, but today that wasn't going to happen; her muscles and joints felt too tired for that. All of that was reversed at a sudden shuddery lurch in her stomach; she was up and _sprinting_ to the toilet. Until now, Sam had been too stubborn to let herself actually vomit, no matter how much she disliked swallowing chunks.

There's a fine line between the positive and negative parts of stubbornness, and Sam often drifted both sides of the thread.

...

It was for a moment, as she readjusted to the darkness inside the bathroom, that she thought it was a trick of the silvery light, but as her vision improved, it was evidently there.

Over the edge of the toilet bowl rim, she spotted the clockwork wristwatch trough strands of her hair. It was peeking out from behind some spare granite tiles leant against the skirting board, it's strap was almost totally hidden. The metal she could see, caught some sunlight reaching there from the next room, as she moved her head towards it, wiping the corner of her mouth with her jacket sleeve. Sliding it out from concealment, it felt strong and well-made between her fingers. The segments clinked in her clasp as she got to her feet to examine it more carefully. There was three dials on the platinum ridge, used to re-wind the tree hands on the face. Hands which had ceased to move, probably after hitting the floor when it was lost. The milky glass was also cracked.

"_Broken_" she sighed. Sam could actually remember_ looking_ for it. She used a finger to lay it flat on her palm, trying to present it as if it was perfect. It _was_ a very handsome watch. Expensive.

Tom had been really upset about it too, much to her surprise. When he'd realised it was missing, he'd gone mental.

_"Sam, Sam, My watch! It's gone... I've got to find it! It's really important to me! Oh God, it's a-a present..."_ Sam imagined him scampering around the place, as he had done; frantically tossing magazines aside or moving around the shampoo. Sam pitched in too; instantly jumping in to help. It was obvious that this watch was important to Tom, he was practically screaming from random rooms' places for her to search, when every time it was met with failure he'd get a little bit more frantic. "_Oh Jesus... It HAS to be here somewhere Sam! Think!"_ She'd even had to remake the bed after looking under the mattress and sheets- it was a _very_ probable solution... Tom had run the full circuit of the flat about three times over before halting in the living room. He'd even checked _in _the toilet.

_"I'm sorry, Tom. It can't be here! We've checked everywhere..."_ She remembered saying, trying out comfort_. _Tom had just sunk down on the sofa and put his massive hands on his forehead. He was really upset, and Sam had never asked why. Perhaps she was too busy staring at his deflated figure. "_I'm sorry."_

He'd be really happy to get it back, actually. _Not _so happy that it was basically useless, but neither the less.

It then dawned on Sam that she was still in her winter jacket and boots. She was also standing facing the sink- standing in the same shaky position, facing the same cosmetic mirror as she had done when she'd "_found out"_ four days previously. Now, she had just experienced morning sickness at five o'clock in the afternoon, held Tom's precious wristwatch in her hand and had just been unknowingly ripped apart by some poor, emotionally exhausted, miscarriage patient. Boy her week was going well. The way she saw herself in the mirror now was even more disturbing than before. Almost transparent.

It was Sunday. Not counting the rest of that day, she had three days before Thursday. Sam shut her eyes. It was dark in there anyway, but the complete absence of distractions made her think through the migraine. Through the stormy sea that made her dizzy and sick to be floating on. Anyone can hide and pretend. Facing up to things, working through them, that's what made her strong. She hadn't done this yet; just think past her immediate reactions and really _shut_ down.

The plumbing of the toilet was still rumbling from when she had flushed the chain. It stopped with a sucking _whoosh _and the whole flat fell totally silent. Something, she didn't know what, made her remember a sentence she'd written about herself in her job- application form.

_ "There is a confidence in me that never can stand to be dimmed at the will of others. My heart always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."_

It was crazy, she knew, but she honestly didn't know what to do anymore. Whatever she thought, everything just turned to soup in her mind. When had everything gone so wrong? But that was a stupid question.

Suddenly she squeezed the watch, hard in a fist. She inhaled sharply and pressed it into her enlarged chest. A pressure pushing it in towards her insides grew as Toms face filled her mind. It painted itself to the walls, impossible to miss.


	10. Chapter 10

The staffroom was in the top ten of Sam's the most awkward places on the planet, as soon as the door flung open to reveal Tom. The calm darkness of the early hour suddenly grew excruciatingly uncomfortable as he paused for a second before shifting towards his locker. It was silent in the staffroom- there were no heavenly distractions that she was relying on being her conversation initiator- the only possible thing that she could think of on the spot, was to comment on the empty tea bag pot- but she never drank tea and neither did he; what was the point?

The sound of him fiddling with his locker keys in the breakable lock pinched the tension but didn't loosen it. Sam cleared her throat but didn't speak freezing still in sudden realisation. Her eyes puffy, stared toward the opposite white-washed wall. She hadn't actually _spoken_ to him since she took the pregnancy test. There had been odd sentences like "They're under 18 - they're yours..." (She had the proceeded to thrust the clipboard into his stomach, passively) or "Shut up you're irritating me." (He would have taken that as a joke, she knew. Even if that wasn't what she'd intended.)

However, she hadn't physically been in a conversation with him- being petite did have its perks; she'd managed to avoid a situation like this until now by using her small frame to her own advantage. Being alone with him now and not saying anything, would be bound to raise eyebrows.

He clicked the locker open and rummaged inside, causing the flimsy metal to twang and rattle. To Sam it sounded like he was looking for something; she then copied, swinging her rucksack around off her shoulder. Resting it on the granite counter, she unzipped it sharply but it tugged away. The teeth, somehow had gotten caught on her thermal jacket.

"Shi..." she uttered under her breath, as she teared hard at the zip- it ripped the sleeve. She stopped herself before the whole word came out, remembering Tom behind her would be listening closely. Her boney shoulders touched her earlobes, bracing herself for him to react.

Her heart somersaulted as he gave her an amused snigger. For a moment she was sure he would continue into laughing at her; the rising temperature in the room would fall into their usual, comfortable range- it would be normal. That's all she wanted- familiarity. Nothing more escaped Tom's mouth, and the heat boiled higher and higher.

As she continued into her bag with frozen, trembling fingers, she reached for the watch intending to give it back to Tom. He continued too; moving things around in his locker, placing his scrubs down by his feet in a messy ball. If he wasn't going to break the ice, it would have to be her. Feeling into an inside compartment, the cool metal wristwatch found its way into her hand. _Now or never._ Her chest fluttered.

"Looking for something?" Tom exclaimed in a high pitched tone, just as Sam parted her lips. It took her back, when he spoke first- she turned to look at him, toes curling in her trainers. Tom hadn't stopped to set eyes on her and still had his face in the locker. It was almost as if he hadn't spoken at all, but he didn't pursued to talk, so Sam assumed he was waiting for her to answer.

"Err, yer actually..." she started, drawing the watch out of the rucksack. Tom was in a grey t-shirt that clung in all the right places- his jeans were a washed out dark blue. She looked at herself in her cycling trousers and sopping trainers. Her hair fell in rat-like strands by her shoulders, dripping in rain water. She never really cared about appearances, but to Tom she must look a fright. Proper sexy. She sighed. "I believe this belongs to you?" The hand that had been concealed by the waterproof lining of the rucksack emerged holding out the watch in the air clear for Tom to see. The other hand reached for her drooping ponytail, twisting it in nerves.

Tom tilted his head backwards, almost hitting his head on the locker door. "What!" he exclaimed when he saw it dangling in Sam's palm. "Is... That's my watch!" he beamed. Ecstatically he bounced towards Sam who couldn't help her lips curving into a little grin. Not that she realised then, but Tom was the only person who could have made her smile at that point in time: he just looked so adorable- he may be over six feet tall, but to her, he resembled an exited child finding out the best news ever. A child who was completely engrossed in the watch and failed to acknowledge her...

"I thought you might be pleased." Sam said in monotone, although her eyes were beginning to shine. She waggled her wrist letting the watch distract and tease Tom.

"I, I just can't believe you found it! I mean... we looked everywhere didn't we?" Tom's words were driven by happiness, she _could _tell. Her smile, brief lived, died when she caught Tom's eye. Its bubbly gleam melted her insides but at the same time, made her want to cry. _What if he does feel the same way... You should tell him..._

"It's broken. I don't know how- I'm sorry." Sam admitted, but Tom's expression didn't waver. She didn't think he'd heard her.

"Oh, Sam! That's okay; I'm just pleased it hasn't disappeared of the face of the earth! My Mum would've killed me." Tom replied, nicely enough. Sam was getting increasingly infuriated that he only seemed interested in the watch; completely blanking her apart from answering. Why couldn't her just look at her? _Is that too much to ask?_

"You're almost thirty, you know." She huffed, angered and almost defending herself. Subconsciously she wanted Tom to realise something was wrong- but obviously didn't admit that to herself.

"She's still my Mum! She gave it to me after my finals... I bet she won't even notice the crack." He continued, not noticing her change of tone.

"Yes, whatever." Sam spat. "Just take it. I don't care." she thrust it onto the counter in front of him.

"Sam?"

"Tom, would you just leave me alone?" She exclaimed, still calm but her voice was raised. She grabbed her rucksack and speeded towards the changing rooms.

"Sam, I've hardly spoken to you all week! How can I possibly be bothering you?" He sounded collected but she could tell he was confused. Turning around she saw him standing almost guiltily, looking genuinely concerned.

"Just forget it, will you? There's you watch..." She pointed at the counter, her arm tensed in anger. "Why would you care anyway?" she practically whispered.

"Care about what?" He asked, storming back to his locker, snatching the watch on the way. He clenched his teeth trying to control his thoughts. He needed to ask _now._

_Me!_ She wanted to scream at him, but couldn't. _Why can't you tell I need you? _ All she wanted was for him to cradle her in is safe, strong arms and tell her it would all be okay. She could tell him everything, he would listen. They would talk; talk as a couple- not just flirtatious chatter, and the she could admit that she loved him and he would kiss her hard on the lips in reply. For him to want her like she wanted him. That was it. _He just doesn't get it. He never will._

Tom started to thrash stuff around in his locker again, more harshly that before. Sam looked at him through scarlet smoke. Any other fling and she could handle it. But she saw him every day- had to see him moving on too. _I'm pregnant for God's sakes._ _I can't just forget..._

"Look Sam. Let's not, okay? I, I just need, um." Tom started catching her attention. Sam could hardly believe her ears. How very _dare_ he? "I... well... It's probably not the right time to ask..."

"You're right! It's not!" Sam finally shouted in rage. Cutting Tom off, who now looked totally mortified, had made ears twitch outside the door. No one came in, thank God. Sam snarled at him before charging into the changing rooms, slamming the door with an uncontrolled force.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Hi! Sorry that this update has been so long coming; writers block is NOT fun! I just read the spoilers for Casualty in a couple of weeks time, and if you can hear someone screaming, that would be me...**_

11

Sam squinted and strained to make the text on the hospital data base come into focus but it remained blurred and distorted. The computer screen was florescent and bright; burning and stabbing at her worsening migraine. Her eyes were so tired and puffy from the tears that everything was wavy and blotched: the whole E.D seemed to be in some dreamy limbo since she'd left the staff room.

This time she had really tried to not let herself succumb to crying about it, but when she had had to make an Olympic dash to the toilet brim, it had become too much. Why was it that the moment she saw him, her stomach turned to mush? Her head suddenly started floating into oblivion and her beating heart worked over-time. Why didn't she think straight? It's amazing how you can fall in love with someone you didn't even notice the first time you met.

She'd managed to keep the sound to a minimal by swallowing the salty tears and muffling the sobs with her jacket. No one had come in and asked questions, (even Tom) so at least she had succeeded on that front.

Two days. Today was Monday; and since it was the night shift, Tuesday was rapidly approaching. She had _two_ days.

_Jesus, this is hopeless! _Sam shut her eyes in defeat dropping her head in her hands; someone else would have to chase up the notes.

Tom had managed to get pretty close behind Sam without her noticing. Any other day, she would've clocked him a mile off, but her senses seemed to have been on holiday more recently; not really 'up-to-scratch'. Tom reached out an arm and as quick as a fish, patted her on the shoulder, hard. Sam practically had a heart-attack: is touch sent shocks up and down her body, pulling her back down to earth. The look on her face looked as if someone had just ambushed her with a bucket of tap-water. He grinned ever more persuasive and his ocean eyes glowed. _Oh bloody hell..._

"Yes?" Sam huffed. She had to strain her neck to look up at Tom: he was leaning right over her, close enough to touch. All Sam could think about were all the possible outcomes of her kissing him right there, right then. She defiantly wanted too; there was no point in denying that now. Would he tug away or ask for more?

She shook her head in despair, exhaling smoothly and tears stung her eyes._ Seriously? Every single time?..._

Looking up at his mouth beginning to form words, she slumped backwards and headed away from the main desk. "You know what? You're unbelievable!" she spat out, turning slightly back towards Tom. Her fingers curled while her rage moved her aching muscles. How had it got to the point where the only way she could walk, talk and breath was if her emotions took hold? All other energy had gone...

"Look." He clapped his hands together and his smile suddenly died out. Jogging to catch her striding pace, he waved a pardon to a nurse as he cut him off. "I don't know why your annoyed with me right now, God knows what I've done," He bit his lip and shook his hands as he saw Sam shoulders tense and her step quicken. "And I know you like if it I just pissed off, but..." He winced when Sam clenched her fingers.

"Jeez! Look who got the message." Sam tossed the words out her mouth, violently throwing her arms in the air. She sucked in her cheeks channelling anger under her skin. _Oh my God. What the hell does he want...?_

"But..." Tom rolled his eyes. He struck an arm out and grabbed onto Sam's sharp elbow. Not expecting it, she stomped to a halt; not turning to face him but not shrugging him off either. "Can you just look at me a second?" Tom sighed.

Sam let her pulse slow down. _Oh my God. Oh. My. God. What, what if... _She turned her head like a crank- one chunk at a time. Slowly time stopped around them. All the commotion in the hallway silenced as she looked into his ocean eyes, trying to catch the gale-force wind that made the far-away waves roll. And he was looking back- he was staring right back. Their pupils began to lock onto each other; starting to bind together- a window into someone else's mind. _Please look Tom. Please, can't you see it yet?_

Tom held his breath. It seemed obvious now but she was beautiful; really, really beautiful. Why hadn't he bothered to look before? It's not like he'd never had the chance, she had been there before; standing small at his feet, reaching up to him with her messy mane of shiny hair and pale, perfect skin. Her pouting blood-red lips had lingered below his chest before but never had he wanted so badly for them to be his.

Tom's stare wound into Sam's eyes; her welling, swollen eyes; she wasn't okay. In fact, she seemed to be crumbling away in his tensing hand. He squeezed it tighter but quickly relented not wanting to make a dent in her seemingly fragile exterior.

Thinking about it now, hadn't she looked like this all week? She didn't look like her usual life-injected self at all. Was it him- what if it was him? He couldn't remember doing anything wrong; after this one time a few weeks back, Sam had made flight by the time he woke up. When he asked why, she just ignored him, so he responded back in the same way.

She was broken inside, almost all-the-way deep; almost reaching the core of her shivering bones. Did she know he could tell she'd been crying? Sam, _Sam the most amazing person ever,_ was right there in-front of _him_ - he could feel a silent scream radiating off her chest, shooting itself through her panicked breath into his. Why did it take this to make him realise how beautifully imperfect she was? He couldn't just shake it off now. She had fought (and won) her way into his heart.

Sam was on the verge of collapsing with exhaustion; all he had to do was look at was the big black rings under her eyes and feel her trembling hand; but somehow she'd never seemed so gorgeous, so delicate. Sometimes the person you really love is the person you didn't think you wanted.

That second the store room adjacent to their freeze-frame, opened and Big Mac sheepishly appeared. In union, Sam and Tom's heads spun at him, their faces horror stricken. Walking past them, nodded slightly, he looked guiltily uncomfortable. He proceeded down the hallway, agonisingly slowly. She stared after him. Awkwardly he turned as if to say something but thankfully stopped, thinking better of it. Sam's cheeks boiled red from their semi-permanent green.

"Hmm..." Tom gabbled. Sam was grimacing at him in absolute dismay.

"He. Heard. All that!" Sam snarled, less mortified than she felt. She turned Toms grip against him; pulling aggressively at his arm. Quickly sliding the door open, she pointed desperately. "Get in."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Hiya! So sorry for delay, but recently I have found it hard to both find the time to write, and actually think of where to take the fic itself. For some reason I've been feeling pretty uninspired. **_

_**Someone (I can't remember who) asked about the last update and whether Sam had had the abortion, what was going on etc... So I kind of realised I'd made it pretty 'unclear' so sorry! In fact, I've actually written more of the last chapter to improve it and also explain all that; hopefully it should all be clearer! (may be worth a re-read...)**_

_**Also I had absolutely no good ideas on what Tom was going to ask Sam, so basically I may have stolen from the show a bit. (A bit unexciting and pants but I do apologize- sos.) And whoever suggested that, sorry I can't remember who, THANK YOU!**_

* * *

The store room was so dim compared to the harsh florescent hallway; it felt like hurdling into another world. A world where, outside sound was muffled by the masses of junk lining the walls and scattering the floor. The many metal shelves that overflowed with various novelties, (surly wasn't a hospital store room meant to house medical equipment?) cramping the space even more. Buckets upon buckets and mops rested near the door, still drooling with bleach and suspiciously red water, curtained the strong smell festering coffee and mould with soapy fragrance. One lone reading lamp lit up a wonky wooden desk which was hardly distinguishable under the many coats, tissues and food wrappers. It's light ray was pivoted away from the doorway, so making out each other's features was a conscious effort.

Sam flared her nostrils at the smell. Something inside her groaned, preparing to vomit. She carefully shut the door behind her with the smallest of "clinks" from the latch, trying to divert as much attention as possible from the little cupboard. As soon as the door sealed, the light almost cut out completely. Tom rubbed his eyes in stress; tension was so high he wanted to scream.

She took a deep breath, stared towards where she knew Tom would be standing and grabbed her stomach in anticipation on hurling. _Not on my watch are you going to..._

"Sam..." Tom started, his voice making its way past his hand which hovered over his face.

"You know what? If you just ask me already before to whole _world_ arrives to watch, it would be much appreciated." Sam interrupted. She sounded incredibly calm and collected, considering how dispersed and angry she felt. Adding puke to the mix would push her over the edge, though. Any control she had over her actions would reverse and she'd collapse on the floor crying puddles. Tom pushed air from his lungs through his nose.

"I'm in a bit of a-a, situation..." He began. Clinging onto every word, Sam started to shake. It started in her toes and eventually dominated its way to her tensed shoulder blades. "Well I may have err... mentioned, to my parents I had a-a... well a girlfriend." He forced it out of him mouth so cautiously it hurt.

"What!" Sam's heart turned to stone and hit the floor. Her lips made the perfect shape for a yelp. It hit her like a punch; striking the side of her face, catapulting her brain into a million different reactions. It was automatic- she didn't mean to say it out loud and _that_ quickly: "You have a girlfriend?" Immediately after, she bit her lip and crinkled her eyes, bracing for an answer. Her legs didn't compute; they continued to quiver.

"No." Tom whispered. He sounded like he didn't know how to form his words. The only thing Sam could make out in the darkness was the cowardly shake of his head and the sigh elating in is chest cavity. She ground her jaw, a habit she hadn't inclined to since childhood: Sam had suddenly understood what he was trying to say.

"So let me get this straight: you want _me_, to rumble up at their house and pretend to be you girlfriend?" Honestly, she was just a hairline away from hitting him! That was it: he just told her, not in so many words but basically he'd actually reinforced what she already knew. He didn't love her. Tom was so heartless he couldn't even tell how much, how very, very much she loved _him_. How could he possibly _not_ tell how much she wanted to cry?

"I was hoping..." Tom coaxed. "I didn't know who else to ask!" He tried to find Sam's arm but just grasped at thin air. He wanted to take it back- how could he have thought this was a good idea? It was Sam. _It was Sam! _His head span- so much confusion was swimming around in his head doing laps around things he once had written down straight. Hadn't he just admitted he loved her to himself? Did he love her? And if so, why couldn't he say it out loud? She was clearly about to flip but still, for the life of him, he couldn't grab onto the answers quick enough. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." His words died off. It was all he could manage.

"You have no idea!" Sam began to raise her voice. She scrambled at hair with her fingers. "I can't do this anymore!" She spoke, sinisterly. Her ears started to ring. _Say it! Say it you coward! TELL HIM NOW._ "I'm..." Her throat closed off, stopping her sub consciousness from saying it. "I'm... erg! Forget it."

"I'm sorry!" Tom breathed in exasperation. Again, he reach out toward her, only this time he succeeded; Sam felt a ghostly hand brush against her abdomen. Tom hadn't meant it, but in total terror Sam jumped backwards into the wall. Placing two hands on the cool concrete she attempted to stable her trembling body. Regain control.

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for!" She spat out into the darkness. Tom's silhouette toward into to blackness. That moment, at that point, she couldn't tame her roaring insides. With a sudden wrench coming from the pit of her stomach, she targeted towards a bucket made out by the thin beam of light seeping in under the door. Now on hands and knees she felt as if she was grovelling at Tom's feet.

"Sam..." Tom blurted. He tried to touch her back but Sam only faced him off. Lifting her head away, she slumped down on the floor, bits of dirt implanted on her palms. It only lasted a second, but she couldn't disguise the fact she'd just been sick.

Are you okay?" Tom continued, empathy flooding his tone. When she didn't answer he sighed. "Look, I'll go get help."

"Oh no you don't!" Sam screeched. Unfurling her body, she stood up strong. Tom knew she was bound to react this way, but it still took his by surprise when she grabbed his shirt, forcefully regaining strength. "You're so... so..." Abruptly, Sam's voice broke.

The tears finally burst their banks. Sam pushed her head into Tom's warm skin and howled. The salt and water soaked his shirt, but he didn't push her away. Neither did he attempt to comfort her; although it may have appeared as if she was seeking consoling, something about the way she tensed hinted that it wasn't meant in that way.

As predicted, Sam thumped him lightly on the chest- she couldn't stop herself, it was a reflex. A _pathetic_ reflex if that. Pushing his body away further into the cupboard, she fled from the room.

The sudden shock of adequate light stunned her bloodshot eyes as she fell into the corridor. She bounced off the walls; heading left towards the toilets. She couldn't help it anymore, really this time, the hysterical tears were prominent. No matter what she told her body to do, they didn't cease.

By chance, Zoe was strutting down the hallway; the cutter of heels blended the noisy department. When she set casual eyes on Sam she hauled to a stop. Standing still, she watched as Sam recognised that Zoe had seen her. "Sam..." Zoe slurred as she let out a hesitant breath. "What..."

"Can you _just_..." Sam began, trying to speak between sobs. It was useless now. "Oh Zoe!" she cried, "Help me. Please..."


End file.
